Dance of Light
by hana-akira
Summary: On the corner of his eyelids, he can see the light dancing to the rhythm of a shadow's heartbeats.


Fandom: DGM  
Title: Dance of Light  
Author: hana-akira AKA rurichi  
Genre: General, Hurt/Comfort  
Character: Allen Walker, 14th  
Rating: 17+  
Warning: OOC, doesn't-follow-Canon  
Prompt: Light Spectrum.  
Summary: On the corner of his eyelids, he can see the light dancing to the rhythm of a shadow's heartbeats.

A/N: This had been gathering dust lately so I thought I should clean it up a bit before I forget it completely altogether.

—

1: It's like an epiphany or being doused in cold water.

—

When he's told that he'll supposedly eventually become the 14th, "The Musician", "The Player", something in his mind clicks. It was like a light switch was flicked on, like suddenly all the light bulbs in his head were running and none of the electric currents were being blocked by anyone or anything. His mind was running a mile a minute, working on overdrive, and somehow everything made sense now.

Everything. It made sense. The strange abilities, the odd things happening around him… It made sense now.

He just wished this didn't affect his dreams, too.

—

2: It's…gross. Knowing that that there's something inside me that I don't understand… It's gross.(1)

—

He doesn't understand his dreams anymore.

His dreams are of white shadows and gray smiles that never die, of Mana and him and someone trailing behind at the edge of his sight. His dreams are like old black and white photographs in motion, a sound film that gradually turns into a silent film by the end of it, and it makes no sense to him why just because he's suddenly becoming a Noah that his dreams are becoming like this.

(He doesn't know which is worse—the dreams with Lenalee crying where he vaguely understood or these dreams with Mana smiling where he doesn't understand anything at all.)

Allen Walker doesn't understand his dreams anymore and doesn't know if he should actually _try_ to understand.

—

3: It's the light spectrum he sees and it's the light spectrum he breathes.

—

There's always a dance of light wherever he goes now. Whenever he turns a corner or passes someone in a hallway, there's always some sort of light which stands out; some beacon of light that just _burns_. Like a rainbow that shimmers after a rainstorm or some piece of colored glass found in the sand that glints in the right amount of light, it just stains with an ethereal kind of light.

It's hard to not gasp, to ignore the image, to turn the other way when all he wanted to do was just stare and stand still in incomprehension.

(A black shadow in all the reflective surfaces he passes dogs his every step when he's awake. The line between dream and reality blurs and he wonders if this nightmare will ever end.)

—

4: It's like the Phantom of the Opera all over again except not.

—

The flickering phantom at the edge of his sight is soon accompanied with a haunting melody that only he knows the lyrics to. The tune is steady like a drum, like the falling rain, and it's hard not to sing along with it when each music note is an art in and of itself. Every moment, every sound of noise is hauntingly beautiful. The tune and the voice become a creation, a _song_, and they become **one**.

His lips part, but no sound comes out and they dance to a soundless tune, a muted voice, and they dance as though they're dancing to their death. A Danse Macabre(2), a Totentanz(3) which unites all like a full circle.

The Phantom and him are like two forbidden lovers meeting in moonlight in the Garden of Eden and together they create the Devil's Thrill with joined hands, a wide grin, and a dazed face.

(It is all for one and one for all and they are like God in that one instant that they connect on the same wavelength.)

—

5: Counting down the hours of insomnia.

—

He is in the middleground, the place between here and there, and he knows that he is in a battlefield. The moon rises above him with a wicked grin, taunting him with its ashen radiance. He used to count numerous amounts of things in order to fall asleep.

(He doesn't count the stars in the night sky anymore because they remind him too much of the moon so he lies awake instead counting down minutes, seconds, hours until he finally slumber.)

The North Star(4) and the Morning Star(5) shine brilliantly in the dark sea above and he tightens his fists and hopes everything ends or gets swallowed up.

—

6: I'm afraid that like the light…you're going to burn yourself out.

—

The rays of light, the waves of life…he can feel it bubbling up in his throat and he feels _alive_. There are frequencies of sound, atoms constantly shifting, and the energy hums beneath his skin and in his blood like adrenaline. (Beating, beating, _beating_ like a constant heartbeat, like typewriter that never stops, like a waterfall.)

The light is beautiful, but so is the dark and so both touch each other, burning and smoldering like gold being purified through white flames that melt away the impurities.

(On the corner of his eyelids, Allen Walker can see a light, a beautiful and translucent light, dancing to the rhythm of a shadow's heartbeats in the mirror.)

This is the crescendo, the feeling of anticipation, and the climax.

(The Shade smiles slyly, a secret bleeding from his blackened honeyed lips, and Allen is a candle burning from both ends, wax dripping and a kingdom falling to its own doom; a thousand years of history and blood dissolving into a puddle of mud and Allen is dying in a pool of his own blood, choking, heaving, and he is suffocated in the drowning.)

—

7: And you fade and I fade and we all fade away.

—

The song is finally complete, the dream still unrealized yet somehow understood. He has burnt away and is only ashes now, the life inside his heart desperately burning yet wavering as though on the borderline between this world and the next. A shadow's heartbeats drum in his ears and he can't remember the colors. Everything is blurred in his head now. The light. The shades. Everything.

He is breathing heavily, countless prayers falling from his lips, wine spilled all over his form, sleep finally overtaking him, and the feeling of being reborn once more searing him like a golden ax falling upon his neck, the Phantom laughing in delight at the end of his sight.

(And we all fade away together again.)

—

A/N: Footnotes ahoy!

(1) In chapter 159 of the DGM manga, Allen says something similar to this.

(2) When translate from French to English, "Danse Macabre" means "Dance of Death".

(3) When translate from German to English, "Totentanz" means "Dance of Death".

(4) The North Star, otherwise known as "Polaris", is a pole star in the north that's commonly used as a "guide" for direction since its position never changes.

(5) What I'm referring to here is a nickname of Lucifer, the fallen angel.


End file.
